The Brotherhood of Tracy
by Alternate Reality1
Summary: A collection of stories concerning the brotherhood of Tracy - their relationships, love for one another, trials and tribulations. Sappy I know.
1. Boys Who Never Grew Up

**Disclaimer:** none of the characters used in this story belong to me. They are just my puppets (sorry!) to play with for a short time, until I feel like returning them. Maybe in a few hundred years or so :)

These are just some shorts I've been working on to brush up on my writing, which I haven't done in ages. I hope you like them.

* * *

_**Boys Who Never Grew Up**_

Scott ran his tongue over his teeth, checking for any loose or missing ones. All there, as far as he could tell.

His brother Virgil, sat across from him, was performing his own checks, gingerly gritting his teeth together and rolling his jaw, testing it was still connected. He took Scott's hand and examined it for any breakages. He was less than gentle when holding the ice pack to the elder's knuckles – a fact acknowledged with a wince and a hiss.

"Sorry," was all the medic could say.

"No, I should be sorry," Scott mumbled, sniffling slightly, a little congealed blood crusting on his upper lip the evidence his nose had been bleeding.

Virgil sighed, his anger melting into sympathy. His left eye was already beginning to swell. "I should be the one to apologise – I shouldn't have called you an arrogant, self-centred hyper freak on steroids."

"And I shouldn't have compared Two to an arthritic one-legged turtle on valium trying to climb a glacier."

Scott snorted a laugh. Virgil pressed the ice pack harder. Scott hissed, then flinched slightly as his breath whistled through a cracked tooth. Another trip to the dentist needed.

"Still," Scott conceded, "that's one mean right hook you have there, Virg."

Virgil stroked his own jaw subconsciously and shrugged. "Must run in the family." He didn't have to look up to see the crooked smile streak across Scott's face.

At the doorway, John and Tin-Tin stood watching, leaning against the frame. Maybe it was the lack of the Y chromosome that excused her from understanding the ways of men. Living with seven of them, she would have expected to declare herself a master.

"How can they be _laughing_? A few minutes ago they were trying to tear each other to pieces."

John managed to cover his snort with a cough. "Tin-Tin, when it comes to men, you've got to be one to understand one. _Those two_ though..." He shook his head. "You won't live long enough to even scratch the surface. They're... _boys who never grew up._"

Tin-Tin smirked. Guess he had a point.


	2. Blood is Always Red

I can't believe Dad has turned his back on him.

After all we've been through, all we have experienced together, pulled each other through. Lived through, and very nearly died for.

Family.

_Our_ family.

I'm seething. No, I'm beyond seething. I'm shaking with anger, disgust, _disbelief_. A red mist has enshrouded me, and it's choking.

I lean forward into his personal space, making sure our eyes engage. For what I'm about to say he needs to hear. Not just the words, but the emotion.

"He's still my brother." The statement is flat, monotone, but underscored with raw hurt. I lean closer, so only he can hear. I'm promising him my next words will haunt him to the core.

"He's still my brother, even if he's _not_ your son."


	3. Fate Versus Family

Many, many thanks for the reviews! I love reading them. The second chapter - I wish I could expand on the story there. Maybe one day, if my head thinks of something juicy.

There is a mild bit of profanity in this one (one word), but I think it's forgivable for the subject. Just a warning.

* * *

When do you stop fighting for a brother?

The moment he slumps against your shoulder as you carry his injured form to safety?

The brief measure of time when you call "John?" by his ear, and receive no response?

You jostle his arm higher up onto your shoulders to better the iron grip you have on his body. There is no groan of pain, no flinch, no complaint. Do you resign your battle then?

The sharp stab of terror that strikes your heart still as his breathing ceases. Does it kill your resolve?

"No no no no no... Come on, John. Don't do this to me you _bastard_..."

The way you drop his body to the floor is panicked, ungentle. You'll apologise later when he's sat in the medical bay chewing you out about the ache in his shoulder and back from the impact. But you won't apologise for the impending bruises and broken rib you're about to inflict performing compressions on his chest.

Is it the bile that rises in your throat that presses you to consider ending the struggle? Or maybe the gargle that bubbles in John's throat as he lays sprawled out in front of you, limp, vulnerable, _lifeless_, cold?

Is it the icy wave of shock that whispers in your ear, 'let him go. He's dead, dead, _dead_...'

NO!

You smack away a stray tear that has the nerve to flow down your cheek. _You're not leaving me to tell Scott I couldn't save you..._

So when _do_ you stop fighting for a brother?

When Hell freezes over.

When the moon crashes into the sun.

When there's not a breath left inside your own body to offer to the brother you love.

When you don't see a gasp erupt from his lips as he claws for his own unaided breath. When his heart – the heart filled with so much love and patience and understanding and need and hope and protection and _family_ – when his heart beats within, with the power and intensity of a million stars.

When you don't stop rallying him to breathe and wake up and show you his ocean-deep, soulful, ultramarine eyes. When you don't anchor yourself to his shoulder with an iron grip so tight you almost wrench it out of its socket.

"That's it. Breathe, Johnny. _Breathe_."

You never stop fighting for the ones you love. You never give in to Fate and it's temptation of forgiveness for surrender. Because while Fate may forgive you, the ghost of memories and love lost never will.

The memory of a weak smile. The memory of a comforting hand reaching up to pat a cheek by a washed out grin. The memory of a whispered gratitude that pushes a tear to fall.

"Thanks, Gordon."


	4. In The End

Just trying to flex my writing skills again. It's been a while. I hope this story makes sense. Please let me know! I know not technically a "brother" story, but it does involve them working together, so to speak.

* * *

_Welcome, Jefferson Tracy. I've been expecting you._

"_Who… Who are you?"_

_I have many names, in different cultures and different beliefs. That is unimportant. What is important is that I am here for your answer._

"_My answer? My answer to what question?"_

_The question of whether you find the light, or choose to return._

"_Light?"_

_You have heard the expression of 'walking towards the light'? Well, in a figure of speaking, I am your guide, should you wish to find that light._

"_I don't understand. Are you a ghost?"_

_In a manner of speaking, Jeff. I am the eternal spirit. Fate, perhaps you may call me, or an angel. Some may even refer to me as Death, but I hold no such equitable power. There are so many names, but I hold just one purpose._

"_And your purpose is to show me the way to the light?"_

_Yes, if you so choose to follow that path, or to return home. But only you can choose._

"_Are you telling me I'm… I'm dead?"_

_You're in the in-between – a no-man's land. Your body has ceased living and your spirit lays waiting. That is why I am here._

"_You mean I can still return?"_

_If you so choose._

"_What is in the light? Is… Is my wife, Lucille, there?"_

_I cannot say. What lies in the light does not exist until you enter it. It takes on your form, what is inside you. It becomes your world._

"_But she could be there? Waiting for me?"_

_Yes, she could._

"_But what of my sons? My mother, my family… Will they cope without me?"_

_Again I cannot answer. I exist only here. I see not the future nor the past, only this moment with you. Nor can I influence your decision, for it is yours alone to make. I am here as your guide for the path you wish to take, and then I shall move on._

"_How did I die?"_

_You suffered a heart attack at your home._

"_A heart attack? I don't remember… My boys…"_

_Be assured it was a quick and painless death, Jeff. Be also assured that not everyone is offered this choice to return._

"_Why am I being offered this 'choice'?"_

_That is not for me to answer. Tis for me to do as bidden._

"_I have missed Lucy so much. I've been lost without her for so long. If there is even a small chance I may be with her again…"_

_As I say, that is your decision to contend._

"_Then I think I have made my decision."_

_As you wish, Jeff. Follow me…_

::x:x::xx::xXx::xx::x:x::

"Dad?!"

"Dad! Can you hear me?"

"What happened?"

"He just collapsed! He grabbed his arm and –"

"Rapid breathing, erratic pulse. Quick, get the defib!"

"Jeff?"

"It's going to be all right, Grandma. He's going to be fine. Stay over here with me."

"Gordon, take Grandma outside."

"Sure thing, Scott."

"No, no. Jeff!"

"Dad? Can you hear me?"

"No response. Start chest compressions."

"On it. One, two, three, four…"

"Come on Dad! Breathe!"

"Five, six, seven, eight, nine… Anything?"

"Keep going, Virg. Alan! Hurry with the defib!"

"Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen…"

_You won't remember our little conversation, Jeff…_

"Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…"

_But from our short time together, I see your choice has been a hard one._

"Eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…"

_Caught between the love of your family who lives now, and that which you have lost. In opening either hand, you lose something you hold precious._

"ALAN!"

"I'm here! I've got it!"

"Open it up and switch it on!"

_I understand now why you were offered a second chance. A man so rich in love such as you is so rare a treasure to uncover._

"Attaching pads."

"Twenty-five, twenty-six…"

"Pads attached. Analysing."

_Take heed, Jeff. You have, as you mortals express, a 'heart of gold' – something your family shares with you and holds dear._

"_**Shock advised. Stand by. Preparing to shock. Everyone clear."**_

"Stand clear, Virg."

_Long may you continue to share it with the rest of the world._

"_**Shock delivered. Continue chest compressions."**_

"Dad?"

_Goodbye, Jeff. For now._

::x:x::xx::xXx::xx::x:x::

"Wait, I think he's breathing Scott!"

"All right, Dad!"

"Come on Dad, that's it, breathe. Nice and easy…"

"He's got a pulse. Turn him over onto his side, into the recovery position."

"Keep breathing, Dad. Stay with us…"

"_Scott?"_

"It's me, Dad. It's me. We're all here. You're going to be fine. Virgil, get a stretcher. Let's get him to the medical bay ASAP."

"On it."

"Alan, go get a blanket to cover him, prevent him from going into shock."

"F.A.B.!"

"Hey, Dad. You with me?"

"_Scott? Where am I? What's happening?"_

"Can you open your eyes for me?"

"_My eyes? They're closed? Is that why it's still dark? Wait, what's going on? Am I… alive?"_

"That's it."

"Sc-t?"

"There he is! Welcome back, Dad. You scared the life out of us!"

"Wha-"

"Don't try to talk, just keep still."

"Here, Scott. Help me get him on the stretcher."

"F.A.B. Virgil. After three – one, two, _three_!"

"Vrr… What…"

"Shh, it's ok, you're going to be ok. We're taking you down to the medical bay to monitor you. We think you've had a heart attack."

"Jeff!"

"We got him back, Grandma. We're taking him down to the medical bay."

"Oh, thank god! Thank you, boys, thank you…"

"It's ok, Grandma. Here, let's get you a nice hot drink while Scott, Virgil and Alan take care of Dad. Give them a minute to make him comfortable."

"All right, Gordon, yes. Yes. Oh thank god, my boy's safe. He's _home_."


End file.
